Whispers and Cheats
by Howverymellarkofyou
Summary: "People have a moral standard about what they will do and will not do. At the end of the day someone who cheats has a lower moral standard than someone who does not. And they will cheat in other areas of life as well" Sometimes in games, you have to break rules and make your own, but as always, Karma never forgets the all the wrongdoings of this world. Spy!Katniss Target!Peeta.
1. Prologue

_This is a little teaser of my new story Whispers and Cheats. I deleted my old story Till My Very Last Breath because I got some complaints saying the title was copying ArthursCamerlot's story and my story was also a Cliché. I ignored these for awhile but it got a bit too out of hand so let's just say this is a re-write. If I get positive feedback and a few reviews to encourage me to carry on then I shall, but for now this is a small teaser. I hope it tickles your fancy ;-)_

_First quote:_

_"Okay."-Hazel Lancaster and Augustus Waters, The Fault in Our Stars-John Green _

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_Prologue._

I know where it is.

I stand in the darkest, innermost part of the house, my hand hesitantly touching the handle on the mahogany door that separates me from what is inside the room. The light, it seems, is forbidden, hiding behind closed doors and the frosted glass letting a few streams of light, the rest are shadows. With a deep breath and with all the courage I can muster, I swing open the door, my hand in ready of defence to whatever evil is inside.

All I get is silence, very loud silence.

I step into the room, and a pang of remembrance springs up inside me. The darkness is dazzling, and the only light I can see is the small open hole on the ceiling, damp from the rain that continues to pour down outside. Buckets that have sat there for many years, overflowed, and the staccato drips seem to elicit a shiver, going through every nerve within me. The objects that lay in the room are still, blanketed in dust and abandon after being left, no longer a necessity. I light the candle that is clutched in my hand with the match I fish out from my pocket, and when the light illuminates the room I step into the world of the past.

Suitcases are piled high on top of each other, and from the lack of use, they look like they haven't been touched, minus the cobwebs and moss that are attached to the cases, not one single thing has been moved. Crates lined neatly at sides, some tucked in the corner, piled high. Old furniture that were deemed good enough to keep are now rotting, frowning at the disuse and are damp and worn. Cobwebs hang freely from the ceiling, some tickle my face as I walk through, and to my paranoid state I keep on turning around to when one brushes my neck, eliciting a mutter or a curse from my mouth. Boxes full of books and flattened out soccer balls from my brother's lie around, pushed up with whatever random object the boxes could fit with. Past is all I can smell, laughter ringing in my ears from my childhood years.

I find it, tucked in the corner, hiding behind a very large box. Just as I left it. I slide the box to the side,dust instantly billowing up and cobwebs tickling my hand. With careful hands I pick up the small box. I wipe stray dust off the top, revealing my carefully stencilled name, and it stares back at me with an unfamiliar feeling. It feels heavy in my hands due to the fact that inside this box could be my bane.

"Wow" A quiet voice says behind me, and I don't have to turn around to see who it is, "No wonder you wanted to come back here." I place the box on a crate.

I turn around and Katniss looks up at me with sad eyes, her cheeks flushed due to the bitter cold outside and her quicksilver eyes seems bright in the dark room. I give her a half-hearted smile that won't reach my eyes. Normally she would smile to me and reassure me, but you can never reassure the past, so she just takes my large hands in her small gentle ones and gives a reassuring squeeze.

My earpiece buzzes to life, and the fatigued voice of my 'mentor' Haymitch rings through, "Come on Kid, sorry to have to rush you but time is ticking, we can't afford any more time otherwise Coin and Snow's men will know where we are"

I sigh and rub my head, trying to get rid of this non-existent headache I always seem to have since this whole thing started. With cautious hands, I pick up the box and I let Katniss lead the way first. I purposely take my time exiting the house, for I want to relish every single detail of it before it either gets burnt down to ashes or everything will be destroyed under the frustrated hands of Snow and Coin.

Before I walk through the door, I look one last time at the hallway. Katniss, gives me a small smile before walking out through the door, leaving me in the house for one last time. Then, something strange happens. I suddenly hear the cheeky laughter of three brothers and their heavy footsteps. The aroma of the infamous Apple Pie my mother used to make and the deep yet jovial laugh of my Father rings in my ears. Suddenly, a little blonde boy appears out of nowhere, staring at me with his deep azure eyes. They are full of questioning, confusion and frustration.

His mouth opens, and the strangest words come out of his mouth. It isn't his voice, it's Katniss'.

"Peeta run! They're here! Run!"

I frown and look at him oddly, "What why?"

"They're here! Run please!" He pleads. I reach out to touch him to see if he is real, but when my hand is a mere millimetre away from his shoulder, I suddenly get slammed into the wall.

I almost drop the box, but I keep my grip tight. A dull pain spreads through my back, and it takes a mere couple of seconds to refocus and glare at the attacker. There stands Katniss, her breaths deep and erratic, her eyes are alarmed, angry and full of emotion.

"Peeta! What were you doing! We need to go NOW!" she yells at me. I look outside of the window and all the cars that escorted and brought me here are gone, replaced with fire and smoke. Some agents lie on the floor and some are kneeling on the ground in surrender. Gunfire and the tell tale whirr of grenades springs me back up on my feet.

"Come on! I know where to go!" I say, this time it is my turn to push her to move her feet. She is startled for a moment as I quickly grab her hand, making my way into the dining room.

"Peeta the others-"

"They will find us, we have trackers on remember!" I reply before she can protest further. I release her hand and place the box in her hands. I walk up to the wooden wall on the far side of the dining room where a large painting of my ancestors hang. I quickly hastily grab the right side of the frame and yank it open a gush of cold air suddenly hitting my face. I hear Katniss gasp behind me, but we don't have time for back stories.

I fish the emergency torch Haymitch gave me out of my pocket and switch it on. I grab Katniss arm and we both step into the dark shaft, immediately illuminating it. I grab the handle which is behind the frame and close the opening behind me.

We don't hesitate for one second and carry on running in the shaft, making sure to avoid stray rocks and rats that inhabit the place. We fight our way through cobwebs and don't stop until we deem it is a safe distance from the house. She hands me the box and I hand her the torch.

Katniss is strangely quiet during our break, as if she is fearing that the miles of rock and soil will cave in on us, trapping us forever. She stays very close to me, gripping her gun tightly with her right arm whilst she grips the box in the other.

"Claustrophobic?" I ask her, my voice bouncing off the roof. The torch is shined in my face and I squint and look away. She mutters a small apology and places the torch on the floor vertically so the light spreads all around us.

"No." Her voice almost too quiet, "My Dad died in a mining accident"

"Oh."

"Yeah"

I have no words to say at this revelation. I just envelope her in a hug, relived that we are both alive and that the box isn't in anyone's hands apart from ours. I mutter a "Thank you" in her hair and she just kisses my neck, hoping that is enough comfort for today.


	2. Goodbye Rosehill Chapter One

_Hello! Thank you for the few follows and favourites, and thank you BrownieAngel for reviewing. I decided to carry on and I wanted to be fully dedicated to this story to develop my writing skills. I am not very great but at least I know I am trying. I apologize for the shortness of the chapter and I promise I will make it up to you lovely lot. _

_Just a few things to clear._

_Turf Moor- A football (ENGLISH FOOTBALL, NOT AMERICAN) stadium in Burnley. Home to The Clarets (a.k.a Burnley's football team. We ARE PREMIER LEAGUE! Anyone English would understand that)_

_Rosehill is a hill near Burnley._

_Enjoy! Don't forget to leave a review! Need advice. _

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_Rosehill, United Kingdom, 2014. Six Weeks Before the Prologue _

I watch the town lights go off one by one as the sun starts to rise. The wind is soft and calm, blowing gently past my face. The road ahead is silent, no one around, just me sitting on the hood of my car, watching the night fade away.

The letter continues to be clutched in my hand, I hold on to it tightly, not ready to let go of it yet. I wonder who is going to be next? With all these 'freak' accidents happening to my family, I am starting to get a little worried that these events are planned.

Bannock, my oldest brother, found dead at his town house in Brooklyn. Not one single trace of the murderer was found. _I regret to inform you that Mr. Bannock Mellark was found dead in his house on the 8__th__ of May at sixteen hundred hours by his wife, Delilah. _I stopped reading it after that. That was all I needed to know.

I pull out the small pocket watch my Dad passed down to me when I had turned the age of seven, thirteen days before he passed. It is probably the only thing I have left of my family at all. Apart from Rye, who I have no clue to where he hides, the watch is a piece of my old life.

A bird, a Mockingjay is engraved on the front. It is perched on an arrow, it's position ready to take flight. I used to hear them sing when I was a little boy. We lived by a meadow and some woods, a secluded area, away from the city. Those were the days when the world was one block wide.

"As long as you have this, nothing will harm you. It will protect you and keep you safe. Never, EVER, loose this son. You promise?" he said, the watch clasped in both of our hands. I nodded my head in earnest. A feeling of honour already swelled up in me that night. This was my treasure.

As the minute hand sweeps past the 12th hour, it is finally six in the morning, the time when Bannock was born. I pull out the bottle of beer from my pocket and open it. Throwing the lid away, I raise my bottle to the sun and say my goodbye to Bannock.

"Happy Birthday Brother, and may you be treated well by the big guy up in heaven!" I shouted to the empty silence. My voice rings through the hills and the trees. As if it was him, the wind blew stronger for a mere couple of seconds. I put down my bottle, got the letter in my hands and unceremoniously ripped it in half. The sound of the letter being torn satisfies me. He wouldn't want some formal letter telling me he's dead.

I watch the torn pieces of paper fly with the wind, swirling higher and higher into the air.

I drink my beer ever so slowly, just talking to 'Bannock', ie the wind, about our favourite memories and our childhood misadventures. The sun rose quicker than expected, and soon the morning had come. Once I had finished, I threw my bottle in a random direction, not caring if I hit anything.

I slide into the car. I turn the ignition and the car spurs to life, humming silently. I only drank one bottle, so I am still sober enough to drive. I slowly back away from the car park, and then, I am on the road, the radio in the background.

I enter the large town of Burnley, my new home. Traffic isn't so bad for a Saturday morning so I easily drive to my house.

I don't know why I chose this town. It wasn't as beautiful as home, my real home in Maine, but it would do. I guess this is the most unexpected place to find me. The Shadows have eyes everywhere, and as far as I know, non of them are in the North of England, hopefully. It has a contrast between historical, modern and fairly old. I have gotten used to the rowdy crowds when there is a match on at Turf Moor, and I have got used to the tranquil silence on Sundays. There is pretty much everything you need.

I park at the back of my house. I give a small wave to the old lady who lives across from me who is currently tending to her garden. She gives me a toothy smile and I smile back. I open the back gate and close it behind me. My eyes flicker up the the back window, the curtains are still closed. Finnick must be still sleeping. He usually isn't still asleep past seven, he normally gets up to get prepared for work at the local swimming centre.

I unlock the door, stepping into the warmth of my house. I take my shoes off at the matt and hang my coat up. I carelessly throw my keys into the bowl and walk into the living room, stretching my arms up.

"Finnick?" I call into the house, "Are you in there?" I am greeted with silence. I am about to walk out of the living room when I hear the tell tale click of a gun. I freeze mid step and slowly put my hands in the air.

"Don't make this harder for me" A deep voice says behind me.

One coherent thought can only be heard in my mind, _I'm fucked. _


End file.
